


Need

by Aella_Antiope



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aella_Antiope/pseuds/Aella_Antiope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of Yuuri's wedding, Murata and Wolfram dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the ever patient HARPG0.

“They look happy,” Murata said, sidling up behind the current Lord of Bielefeld.

“Yes.” 

Wolfram von Bielefeld, recently inherited Master of Bielefeld Province, was leaning against a pillar in a dim corner of the ballroom watching the dance as Shibuya and his new bride waltzed around the floor. “They are a good match,” he said with a wistful smile.

The girl, Lady Maria, was the young cousin of Lady Flynn Gilbert, only a year younger than Shibuya. She was just as wholesomely pretty as the king, and unbelievably, considering which country she came from, even more idealistic than Shibuya.

“I expect I shall get a dance later on,” Murata said confidently and bumped his shoulder against Wolfram’s. “I’ve missed our dances.”

Wolfram had been away in Bielefeld province for a year, taking charge of provincial matters before handing over every day affairs to a cousin just in time for the wedding.

Lord Waltorana’s death in a hunting accident had been a shock to everybody, no less to Wolfram. Even more so that Waltorana had left Wolfram as his heir.

“Of course,” Wolfram gave him a sad, sweet smile, and Murata’s heart jumped just a little. He was very glad he’d been able to see Wolfram this night.

After Shibuya had ended the engagement four years ago, Wolfram had not run back to Bielefeld, but had taken to assisting Lord von Voltaire in state matters. It had been somewhat amusing to see Shibuya’s ill-concealed shock at how well Wolfram had dealt with the situation. Wolfram wasn’t as delicate as people thought. There was a toughness beneath that exterior which Murata couldn’t help but respect.

Even so, in private, Murata knew it had been quite a blow to the young lord. A blow not only to a proud ego, but more, far more, for Wolfram had loved Shibuya truly and would never stop loving him, though the love would change, would evolve from raw first love to gentle friendship, as was natural. Now, the Lord looked as well as ever, though maybe a little more subdued and less prone to impatient outbursts, but allowing for all that had happened over the years, that too was normal.

Wolfram von Bielefeld had grown up.

“How is Bielefeld?” Murata asked.

Wolfram shrugged. “As good as ever. Klaus is a stickler for numbers and loves accountancy too much for what is healthy. But between him and Wagner, the estate and province are in good hands. I’ll need to go back more often, but it should be manageable.”

“I have to confess,” Murata said slowly. “I didn’t think you would return to your position here.”

Wolfram snorted. “You think I’d abandon Yuuri now? The wimp needs as much help as he can get.”

Wolfram’s gaze returned to the dance, and Murata took that moment to study the blond lord. He’d gained some height over the last few years. Fully grown, it was apparent that he’d taken more from the Bielefeld side of the family than from his mother. His face was thinner, with high cheek bones, and he’d lost the softness of youth, making those high cheekbones more pronounced. 

Wolfram’s features reminded Murata of ancient Greek statues of the gods, especially with his shoulder-length blond curls. His eyes were as green as ever, and large making him look elfin. 

Such features were typical amongst most mazoku, men and women. Murata had long ago become inured to the devastatingly attractive features of the mazoku race, but the passion, willpower and keen intelligence in Wolfram was what drew him in. 

“They seem so young,” Wolfram said and turned his eyes on him.

“Because they are.” 

“Do you think that’s why he couldn’t love me?” There was a distant ache in his voice, an old pain. Murata could empathise. 

“I don’t think so,” Murata said carefully. “I can’t speak for what Shibuya’s feelings are or were, but it wouldn’t have been so simple.” Maybe, in time, Shibuya might have come to terms with his bisexuality, for Murata didn’t think he was entirely straight. Still, sexual attraction aside, Shibuya may not have seen Wolfram as anything other than a friend. 

Wolfram nodded and sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, you are right.”

Murata would have said more, but it no longer mattered, for Shibuya had made his own choice years ago. He was relieved to see that Wolfram had accepted that fact. 

On the dance floor, he watched Shibuya blush at something Lady Maria whispered in his ear. Shibuya didn’t really need as much help as Lord von Bielefeld thought. He was doing remarkably well in his role, but the king needed true friends and allies, and Wolfram would be both.

“It won’t be long before they have children,” Wolfram mused.

“Knowing Shibuya and Lady Maria, it’s inevitable.”

“I guess I’ll end up disciplining the brats. Lady Maria is more soft-hearted than Yuuri. So, between the two of them, their children will be terribly spoilt.”

“Can’t have that,” Murata said mildly. Wolfram gave him a narrowed look followed by a tiny smile to acknowledge that ‘Uncle Wolfram’ would be even more of a soft touch. 

Wolfram loved children, he’d dote on Shibuya’s.

Murata would suggest the man find his own wife and have a dozen brats of his own, but he knew better. Wolfram would only marry for love. Between his cousins, there were plenty of Bielefeld children for Wolfram to choose from to sponsor as potential heirs, much like Lord Waltorana had sponsored Wolfram. 

Another thing that Wolfram had done after the breakup, and only a few knew, he’d spent a good few months sleeping his way through the ranks of the royal military, with only the exception of his own men. Murata had assigned Yozak to keep an eye on him. Wolfram had passed through his manic, promiscuous phase unscathed and without scandal, with a combination of luck, some minor blackmail (one time) and Wolfram’s prudence (mostly, the man hadn’t totally lost all common sense.) Now, Murata knew well what Wolfram’s type was – not really a surprise: male, muscular, dark haired, and all devoted soldiers.

Murata only fit two of those criteria; the odds had never been in his favour. 

“I’m going back to Earth,” he admitted to Wolfram, and was fairly surprised that he did. He had intended to tell no-one and leave a goodbye note to Shibuya before jumping into the fountain.

Wolfram gave him a shocked look. “Why?”

~***~

The Sage gave him one of those infuriatingly bland smiles. Now, he’d gotten to know him better in the years following breaking up with Yuuri, they were even more maddening because Wolfram knew how much Murata cared, about so many things, in so many ways. But fates, the way he could hide his emotions, like now, was disturbing.

Wolfram’s wasn’t fooled at all, they had spent many evenings discussing and arguing philosophy, politics, and strategy. Murata could be quite passionate. Few people saw that. Few people even bothered. He’d been guilty of that once, too caught up in his engagement to Yuuri to notice anything or anyone else. He’d neglected so much, his house, his body’s desires, his family, even, when Yuuri was in Shin Makoku, his adopted daughter.

Wolfram had taken her back to Bielefeld with him so he could show her the mountain wilds he’d spent much of his childhood roaming before life had gotten complicated. 

He’d almost stayed. But, in the end, he’d decided to come back with Greta, to serve the king and the kingdom the way his eldest brother did. On a more practical note, it was best for his province to keep an eye on court politics. It would give the people in his province an edge. Wolfram would never enjoy politics, but it was a necessity and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of the strong ties he had with Yuuri.

And besides that, he missed Yuuri, he missed his brothers, the Sage’s companionship and even, Shinou help him, Günter and Anissina.

“Because I’m not needed here anymore,” Murata said, and Wolfram thought he could sense a glimmer of sadness in his words, but there wasn’t enough light to see his expression. In the corner of the ballroom they were in, Murata’s black clothing was indistinguishable from the shadows and his pale face was obscured by his glasses.

“Don’t be an idiot. Yuuri needs you.”

Murata pushed his glasses up coolly and looked over to the floor. The music had stopped and another waltz was starting. Other nobles were taking the dance floor now that the king’s wedding solo had finished.

“Shibuya has everything well in hand. Between you, von Christ, and your brothers, he has a solid circle of advisors and Yozak is well-equipped to take up intelligence gathering after I’m gone.”

“But...I haven’t beaten you in igo yet?” Possibly the silliest thing he could say, but it got a smile out of Murata. 

“You can play Shibuya.”

“I don’t think he’s won a game against me in years. He won’t be any challenge.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Murata said with an amused side-eye, and put his hand out to Wolfram who took it automatically as he was led out into the dance floor.

Dancing with Murata was so effortlessly easy. True, he wasn’t as graceful as, say, Lord von Christ but he was proficient and more than made up for it in enthusiasm. 

He’d always enjoyed dancing with the Sage.

“When will you be leaving?” he asked quietly, letting the tempo sweep over him and guide his feet.

“After the ball.” Wolfram stumbled a little, quickly recovering as Murata caught his slip and eased him into the next step.

“But that’s too soon!” He resumed the steps, trying not to over think it; he turned in a loop and faced Murata as they held hands.

“May as well go now. You know how tedious goodbyes can be when drawn out.” 

“But...you can’t go.” Wolfram said fiercely, trying once more. “The aristocracy needs your guidance!”

“I think the nobles will be happy to see the dark, menacing shadow of the king gone,” Murata said dryly and raised one eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree.

Sadly, Wolfram couldn’t dispute that. The nobles were wary of the Sage, but too terrified of Shinou to do anything about it.

“But what about the people? They need you to guide them with The Great One’s will.”

“Which is what Lady Ulrike does well. She did it for six hundred years before I came. I’m sure she’ll do it for hundreds of years more without my help.”

“But... you _can’t _go,” he repeated, knowing he sounded petulant, wishing he could come up with something clever to say to convince Murata to stay.__

__Then, the music stopped and Murata gave him another infuriatingly bland look in the silence. His dark eyes giving Wolfram no clue at all on what was going on in his head as he asked expressionlessly, making his slight accent even more alien. “Why not?”_ _

__“Because.... _because_ ,” and, instinctively, he pulled Murata in, closed his eyes and pressed his lips gently against the Sage’s, heedless of doing this in front of the court, in front of Yuuri, and his brothers. _ _

__He drew back, resting his forehead against Murata’s. Wolfram’s hands were shaking, so he placed his fingers firmly Murata’s shoulders to stop them. After a moment, he pulled back, his hand still holding on. He studied the top of Murata’s gold collar, afraid to look into those dark eyes as he said softly, “Because I need you.”_ _

__So odd to think that he hadn’t realised that simple fact until now._ _

__“Well,” Murata said as he lifted his chin up so he could he look into those amused black eyes. “I certainly can’t argue with your reasoning.”_ _

__This time, it was Murata that pulled him into a kiss, a true kiss, slow and sensual and without thought his lips parted and the kiss deepened. Hands were wrapped around the back of Wolfram’s neck firmly._ _

__In the background, there were titters and whispers amongst the other nobles in attendance, but Wolfram, for once in his life, didn’t care one bit._ _


End file.
